


Garrett Hawke Does not do Subtle or Stealthy

by caitirin



Series: Garrett Hawke: Champion of Kirkwall and Professional Disaster Mage [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenris is Bad at Feelings, Flirting, Goofball Hawke, Hawke has allergies, Hawke is a Goofball, M/M, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, bathing together, killing slavers, sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:26:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitirin/pseuds/caitirin
Summary: Fenris is always cold.  But Garrett Hawke is warm.  And an idiot.  But Fenris kinda likes that.  And they're going to kill some slavers, if Hawke could stop flirting long enough.--In the darkness beside him Garrett Hawke sneezed.“We are meant to remain undetected, Hawke,”  Fenris said flatly.“I’m allergic to something behind these crates.”  Hawke pinched his nose to keep from sneezing again.“How you survived into adulthood will always be a mystery to me.”  Fenris rolled his eyes.“I know, by all accounts I ought to have been dead years ago.  Lucky for you, I defy the odds to rise again every time!”





	Garrett Hawke Does not do Subtle or Stealthy

Fenris sat atop a stack of crates in the shadows of one of the many dilapidated buildings at the docks in Kirkwall.  It vexed him, this having to wait for the slavers to make their move; his fingers itched to take up his sword and feel the heft of its swing cutting through their worthless hides.  But Hawke, for once in his life, had made a valid point that waiting for them to show themselves would lead Hawke and the others directly to the caves where they were keeping their cargo.  The prospect of opening those cages and freeing the people within were more than enough to still Fenris’s impatience. It wouldn’t have been so interminable if Kirkwall wasn’t always so damnably cold.  It didn’t seem to bother the rest of them. Hawke, raised in Fereldan, was used to the cold and Varric with his open coat seemed to be daring the temperatures to bother him.

Fenris didn’t complain about it.  He had too much pride to show that it bothered him.  And he knew they’d reasonably suggest that he consider wearing more layers under his spiked armor.  For someone else, that would have solved the problem. But for Fenris, adding extra layers only meant restricted movement, they added no warmth. 

It was the lyrium.  For all that it burned in his skin, it didn’t warm his body in the least.  It burned cold and continuous. Not so much that it froze him, just enough to make cooler temperatures all that much more uncomfortable.  He hunched his shoulders and looked out over the filthy water of the harbor. 

In the darkness beside him Garrett Hawke sneezed.

“We are meant to remain undetected, Hawke,”  Fenris said flatly.

“I’m allergic to something behind these crates.”  Hawke pinched his nose to keep from sneezing again.

“How you survived into adulthood will always be a mystery to me.”  Fenris rolled his eyes.

“I know, by all accounts I ought to have been dead years ago.  Lucky for you, I defy the odds to rise again every time!” 

Fenris didn’t have to turn around to see the idiotic grin Hawke would have on his face.  He wore it all the time; even in the most dismal of circumstances you could almost certainly count on Hawke for a stupid joke, a smart remark, and that shit-eating devil-may-care grin he seemed to wear like armor.  

“Hey, did you see that?”  Hawke leaned forward, over Fenris, steadying himself with an arm around Fenris’s neck and shoulder.  He pointed towards the doorway of the nearest building.

Fenris felt the rush of heat moving over his skin, radiating outwards from where Hawke’s arm pressed against the bare skin of his neck.  He fought the urge to turn and lean into it. This was the only thing that made him not feel the cold so terribly, the sensation of someone else’s warm skin against his own.  In the past, there were precious few opportunities for anyone to get close enough for that. That took too much trust in someone else. Fenris looked in the direction Hawke was pointing and scowled.  

“That is the same prostitute who has been working that corner since we arrived two hours ago, Hawke,”  Fenris said, unable to keep the note of irritation from his voice. “You’ve pointed him out once already.  Perhaps it would be quicker for you to just go and inquire as to his services directly.”

The familiar sound of Hawke chuckling actually made Fenris turn around to glower at Hawke.

“Didn’t realize you were the jealous type, Fenris.  I thought it might have been someone from inside. I must be losing my eyesight.”  He pretended to squint in that direction. “Or maybe I only have eyes for you, my angsty porcupine.”  He batted his long eyelashes at Fenris.

“Ugh.”  Fenris shoved Hawke’s face away.  He fought back the shiver that he felt at the loss of warmth as Hawke’s arm fell away from his neck.

Hawke was undeterred.  He nudged Fenris aside just a little bit so he could sit on the crate next to him.  Their arms brushed together and Fenris felt the warmth of his skin again.

Either Hawke didn’t notice or he was doing it on purpose.  Fenris didn’t move away. He didn’t lean against Hawke either though.  They were hidden well enough in the shadows, but Fenris had a suspicion that Varric was always watching even when it seemed his attention was focused elsewhere, and Fenris didn’t particularly want to give him any further fuel for his ridiculous stories than he already had. 

Hawke lowered his voice.  “You’re cold.”

Fenris looked back at the water.  “I’m fine.”

“Sorry that we’ve had to wait so long.  I know you feel the cold more than I do.”

“Everyone feels the cold more than you do.  You were raised in a frozen wasteland of dogs and bland food.”  

Hawke laughed.  “Hey, we had nice weather in the summers in Fereldan.  I even went swimming sometimes. In the summer.” 

Hawke never responded to Fenris baiting him with anything other than humor.  He would argue with Fenris about mage issues when Anders wasn’t around, but just calmly laugh off anything Fenris said that was meant to needle him.  Fenris wasn’t entirely certain how to handle Hawke’s casual refusal to be angry with him. In the past, sarcasm and vitriol had been how Fenris had always kept people at arm’s length, avoided attachments.  But Hawke just smiled and took the remarks in stride. Anyone else making such remarks would have found themselves quickly on the receiving end of that biting sarcastic sense of humor Hawke always had at the ready.  But, Hawke had a soft spot a mile wide for other refugees, children, and anyone else with an even halfway decent sob story. Fenris felt the tension in Hawke’s body, through their casual arm to arm skin contact, even before Hawke spoke.

“They’re moving.”

Fenris followed the line of Hawke’s arm indicating a group of three figures leaving the dock building.

“We should move on.”  Fenris spoke quietly. He got up silently from the crate.  

Hawke stood up and stretched.  “Finally. Sooner we stop them the sooner we can go home.  I’m thinking mulled wine and a nice fire. After we wash off the inevitable blood.”

“Perhaps you could even take the time to actually bathe.”  Fenris pretended to sniff at Hawke. “I understand you have  _ heard _ of soap.  I’ve seen it in your house.”

“Maybe you’d care to join me.  I could help you wash behind your ears.”  Hawke looked sideways with a heated smile.

Fenris felt the tips of his ears warming.  “Maybe you should focus more on the task at hand and less on flirting.”  

Hawke laughed and followed the path the slaver had taken.  “I focus better when I know I’ve got a reward to look forward to, you know.”

Fenris was about to respond when he heard a mostly stifled giggle from behind him.

Merrill smiled.  “Oh, don’t stop on my account.  It’s sweet. I especially liked when your ears went all pink.”

Fenris made a disgusted sound.  “Maybe we could focus on killing these slavers before they escape while the rest of you moon around like children.”  His voice was overly sharp.

“Whatever you say, Broody, we’re right behind you.”  Varric wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “I know how you enjoy following Hawke.”

Fenris rolled his eyes.  “Oh, go fondle your crossbow.”  He suppressed a grin as they hurried after Hawke and the slavers.

“Don’t listen to him, Bianca, he’s just jealous of what we have together.”

Hawke looked back over his shoulder with an excited look and gestured not entirely subtly into an alley where the slavers had congregated.  It wouldn’t be long now before someone noticed Hawke’s bad attempts at stealth and the fight would begin. 

_ Not jealous. _  Fenris thought, maybe for the first time actually pleased with what he did have.  Maybe he would join Hawke for a bath later. He drew his sword and stepped past Hawke as voices started shouting in the alley way.  Hawke’s fingers brushed his arm as Fenris moved to put himself between Hawke and the slavers. Warmth, he observed, was not a bad thing.


End file.
